Regent
by Elenluin
Summary: The Feanorian brothers hotly debate on the right course of action after Maitimo's capture, but there is only one that has been appointed his brother's regent, only one that has to decide and has to bear the weight of his choices and their consequences that stretch until the end of the First age.
1. Carnistir

Makalaurë turned towards the eldest of his younger brothers. "Leave. Now. Take him with you before I... All of you, out!"

His outstretched arm trembled with barely contained fury and his commanding voice had an edge to it that they had not noticed before, a note of danger, of threats unveiled.

They withdrew, suddenly afraid of this brother they thought they knew.

Once out of the tent the five looked at each other. "I have never seen him like this." Curufinwë spoke first, an unusual hint of confusion apparent on his face.

Carnistir and Tyelko shared a silent look. "We did. It was before you were born, when father forbade him to move out of the house. Atto found it inappropriate that a son would not stay with his father until he was properly married. Their fight was vicious. Even Maitimo did not dare interfere. But two weeks later Maka moved out without further ado, and no one ever mentioned it again." After a pause, Tyelko added, his eyes unfocused, "Do not be fooled, you have not known him as I did once, when we were both still young. His voice is not only powerful in singing, though nowadays he avoids using it in any other way."

Curufinwë looked at him with barely hidden contempt. "I know he can make you do what he wants, Tyelko, _you_ would never go against his wishes, would you?" He shrugged "I am not so naive. His voice does not work on me. He's a coward. A weak coward who keeps on dwelling on what has passed, while nothing can be changed."

"Shut up, just shut up. I do not need to hear those words repeated." Carnistir interfered, "You have done enough harm tonight. You have no idea. You have no idea what courage it took to make the choices he made when leaving for these accursed lands. You can call him many things, but he is no coward, nor is he weak."

Curufinwë opened his mouth to retort but got interrupted before he could even start.

"No, shut up I say, and the rest of you too! What you have to say you can say to all of us!" Carnistir furiously turned towards Ambarussa who were whispering amongst themselves. "Makalaurë did not want this any more than we do and he is right. We have responsibilities, our people need us. Without father, without…" He took a deep breath before he continued. "We cannot go blindly after Maitimo, however much we would want to. And neither can he. Whether you like it or not, that is the reality we face now brothers."

Tyelko clenched his fists in an attempt to contain his emotions. It was one thing to try and forget what had happened to their father, but quite another to ignore the fact that the one that in their youth so often had taken his place was captured by the enemy. "At least he could have heeded the terms those foul creatures brought him. He did not even allow us to be there when they came. Why did he not call for us?"

Again Curufinwë started to speak "You speak the truth Tyelko. He should not have made that decision alone. How can he even consider leaving him in the enemy's hands? If anything happens to Maitimo, I will consider it his responsibility, and his alone! Carnistir, how dare you defend him? Did you already forget what Maitimo did for you, for us? How can you even think of leaving him out there, alone? Do you wish him dead?" Curufinwë's voice rose, and for one frightening moment his brothers caught a glimpse of their father. But then the flames flickered and he spat on the ground and became himself again. Ambarussa now mingled themselves in the discussion, supporting Curufinwë and Tyelko that something had to be done, but Carnistir remained stubbornly quiet.

All that time, they did not realise that Makalaurë had left his tent.

"Silence."

He did not raise his voice. He did not have to. They fell quiet without further ado, even Curufinwë looked slightly put off by his brother's commanding tone.

Makalaurë's face was composed again, no trace visible from his earlier outburst. The white hot flames were carefully hidden once more. But his brothers knew now that they were there, right below the surface and ready to leap out at the slightest provocation. They would never admit it, but they dreaded their brother's fury.

"Stop arguing like petty fishwives. You are princes, you are the leaders of our people, you _will_ behave and you _will_ do what I tell you." There was a darkness in his grey eyes, one that made it clear he would not accept any backtalk.

"Ambarussa, you will go to the healing tents. Yesterday they were lacking supplies, see to it that they have all they need. You can use your platoons to forage for them. As of today, they will be your responsibility, understood? I want to hear your reports in the morning on the status of the wounded and the dead. I expect you to organize the care for the children as well, especially those that have no parents left." The twins nodded timidly and knowing that they had just been dismissed, disappeared in the night.

"Curu, as you are so eager to prove your valour, I suggest you take back the command of our border patrols. Send them north and east, there are rumours amongst the Moriquendi that a battle was fought and I want to know what is happening. Information is crucial now. Your son can lead your smiths in repairing the damage done to our weapons and he can start planning more permanent housing. He is old enough, it is time you give him some responsibility."

As the one that was most alike their father left with rage apparent in his eyes, Makalaurë stopped him mid-pace, catching his upper arm. "Do not even try to go after him. If you do, I swear to the Valar, I will find you and stop you. For now, I will not hold you accountable for what was said earlier. You were upset and I will forgive you out of love for Maitimo, but do not think that I will forget, brother. One day that tongue of yours will be your death." Curufinwë briskly pulled himself loose and strode away without a word.

"Tyelko, you take charge of the food provisions and the exploration of the land. We need clearer maps with more details on what is awaiting us south of this lake. This is war, we need information. Think on how you want to start exploring and how many men you need. Report back to me tomorrow noon time with your requests, understood?" Tyelko nodded, grateful for the opportunity to go.

"Carnistir," Makalaurë gestured to his tent. "You and I need to talk."

As he walked into the tent, Carnistir thought that all his brothers made a grave mistake by underestimating the bard. In only a few minutes time, Maka had made sure that all were where they wanted to be. Ambarussa far away from fighting, caring for the wounded instead, Tyelko out into the open, close to the water and the animals and Curu with a task before him that would keep his temper at bay. But why _he_ had been asked to stay, he did not know.

Makalaurë's anger seemed to have disappeared and he spoke softly as they entered. "Sit, and eat, it has been a tough day for all of us." His brother moved an extra chair to the table and leant his chin on his hand, pensively staring at Carnistir. Silence fell between the brothers while they tried to swallow the bread.

They both failed miserably and after a short time, Maka shoved back his chair. "You did not have to defend me."

"Let Curu be, Makalaurë, he is angry. He always is when things are out of his control."

He looked at his brother's face and realised that the bard's earlier harsh countenance had made way for something that he could only describe as weariness. Somehow his brother suddenly looked old. It only took a few seconds before the expression disappeared, and it was just Maka again. Maka the gentle elder brother, in whose house they had all sought refuge when their father was angry.

"I know that, Carnistir. But Curu is no longer a boy and he will need to get a better grip on himself. Especially here, especially now. When you were all young, I always felt that you and Tyelko were the most impulsive ones, but the two of you have learned, you at least learned..."

"Yes I did" Carnistir laughed mirthlessly. "Or better said, others made sure I did."

"You still miss her." It was not a question, and though in any other moment Carnistir would have ignored the remark and directed the conversation elsewhere, he could not bring himself to avoid the piercing grey eyes of his elder brother this time.

"I do." He sighed. "You should not give me too much credit, Maka. In essence, I agree with their point of view. I want to go after Maitimo and my hands itch to take on the enemy, but when he called you a coward… He has no clue. When she told me she would not come, I was so angry. Especially because _his_ wife did agree to join, she did not even ask for his reasons... I cannot even imagine what you…"

"Curu's wife never had any ideas of her own, and you know that. She always was happy to follow him wherever he went without questions." Makalaurë interrupted, leaning back in his chair. "No, your lady ever was more intelligent, and more determined to sail her own course. I liked her." He sighed once more as he stood up. "Don't forget that she loved you, my little brother, no one could deny that. It pained her greatly that you went away, of that I am sure." He went to the cupboard again, putting away the remnants of their meal.

"And your wife Maka, do you still miss her?"

Carnistir saw how his brother held the cupboard's edges until his fingers where white. He did not speak nor move for a long moment.

And Carnistir did not need any further answer. He stood up as well, walked towards his brother and whispered "You were the wisest of us all to let her free, to tell her to stay. At least she is safe, and so is your boy." He softly brushed his hand over his elder brother's shoulder before he turned away, knowing when to leave the other alone. "I will come back tomorrow, call me when you need me."

Makalaurë looked up. "I need your interest in the elves of these lands. I need you to learn their language better, you were ever good at these things. Then teach it to me and the others, we need information and I would like to learn before they know we can understand them. I do not trust them fully."

Carnistir nodded and walked to the exit of the tent. He opened a flap and almost as in afterthought asked "And you Makalaurë, what will you do? Will you claim the crown?"

Makalaurë had not moved from his position, looking at his hands that were still tightly clenched around the edge of the cupboard "I will do what I must, as the regent of our people." And Carnistir, who knew he would not get any further answer, left.


	2. Makalaure

When his brother had closed the tent's entrance behind him, Makalaurë stumbled back to the table. He had expected this to happen, his brothers calling him a coward and a traitor. Others had called him those things before, but that did not make this easier to bear.

He had been careful to be alone when meeting the foul creatures that brought the conditions of release for Maitimo. The responsibility was his and he would make his choice alone. There was no need for his brothers to get involved. At least they would not have to live with the feelings of guilt. They could simply blame him. He would carry the weight of that decision alone.

He grasped a piece of paper and sunk down on his chair.

Maitimo, why did you go?

In a useless attempt to calm himself he started writing down the thoughts that were tumbling through his head.

 _Maitimo, why did you go? You knew this was not going to end well. We warned you. We told you. But you would not listen, going to the enemy, almost presenting yourself. Some days I think I know why you did it. That you knew all too well that you had no chance. On those days I know what you were looking for. I will not tell our brothers – they do not need to know._

 _Ah, now I am your regent. I, the bard, the one father always mockingly called songbird. It is not Curufinwë who speaks when he calls me weak. It sounds like an echo from the past. No matter how I tried to prove myself during our training, no matter how I almost bested you when we learned to use our swords, how I was stronger than Tyelko, how I played my part that cursed day in the havens, always I was weak and soft in his eyes. What would he have said if he had seen me now? Holding his own circlet of fire in my hands, doubting to put it on my head, but commanding our troops regardless, telling them that we will not go on an expedition to find you. For I will not._

 _I would if I was alone, if I was free of responsibility, believe me, I would. But now, with the weight of the care for our people on my shoulders, for our other remaining brothers, I will not. Their terms I rejected, their requests for negotiations I refused._

 _I will not set out on a foolish quest I cannot win, that will get more killed. I will not come and rescue you, my brother, whom I know might not even want to be rescued._

 _You thought I did not see the look in your eyes, the day we burnt the ships? You thought you hid your grief, knowing your best friend was left at the other side? I know of grief, brother, I know of leaving dear ones behind. I could see it, even though the others did not._

 _We chose brother, long ago, far away it seems now, but we chose this uncertain life, these perilous paths, this unknown land. And when we did so, we accepted the consequences, you as well as I. So I will not come for you, no matter how much my heart weeps deep inside me._

 _The voice, that served me so well in music, now does her duty in commanding. And they listen brother, yes they do, even ever-wayward Carnistir, even ever-disputing Curufinw_ ë _, they listen._

 _And they as well will not come for you. They do not understand my reasons as you would, but they obey._

 _Loosing you, my brother, dearer to me than any other, is breaking me, but I have to hold myself together, myself and our people, I have no choice._

He threw his pen on the table, his mind lost in thoughts. He could not let anyone read this, but did not want to toss it into the fire either. Checking if it was dry, he tucked the letter away in the small book that he kept ever close to him. It was embroidered with his own emblem, the Feanorian star in shades of blue and green. As his fingers traced the pattern, he sighed. Yes. He knew what he had left behind.

His mind wandered back to happier days, when he had lived in a house close to their father's and would receive his brothers there.

Carnistir and Tyelko most often drifted towards his place, when Fëanáro lost his temper again on one of their many childhood pranks. He had wiped away their tears and cared for scraped knees, but usually all he had to do was quietly listen to what they had to say and wait until they had calmed down. When they grew up, they still came to tell him what was bothering them. Sometimes they would simply listen while he worked on his music, until they had calmed sufficiently to face their father again.

Ambarussa were infrequent guests, if he was honest with himself, he had to admit that he hardly knew them. He had left the house long before they were born and their close bond meant that they distanced themselves somewhat from their elder brothers. Curu too was born after he had left, but he usually got dragged along by Tyelko. Although now he wondered if that really had been the case. He had always been a willful little elf that would cunningly plot and scheme the mischief that caused their father's ire to rise. Somehow Curu always escaped his wrath though, with his two brothers willfully shouldering the blame...

Makalaurë shook his head at the memories. Their parent's house had always been alive with laughter, shouting and the sound of a hammer on an anvil. There was no silence to be found in Fëanáro's home, even if its owner was elsewhere and he had fled it as soon as he possibly could.

Maitimo was usually the one that replaced their father when he was once again unreachable in his forge or away to attend court in Tirion. He helped their mother running the household, made sure that all practical matters were arranged. He could silence his younger siblings with one threatening glance before they would trespass the borders of civilization when present at a banquet or feast. He had found it important that they behaved and as they were slightly afraid of his anger too, they did.

The young ones never knew that Maitimo had wanted to flee the house as much as he had, but was held back by his sense of duty, by the burden of being the eldest.

Often, late at night, on the days when Findekano was far away in Tirion and Maitimo could not bear the noise in his home any longer, he would come strolling down the hill. He would enter the bard's house by the back door and as Maka laid down his harp and shoved his music sheets aside, they opened a bottle of wine and would talk on whatever crossed their minds. They would talk of the latest new forging techniques developed by Fëanáro, of the progress of Curu learning their father's trade or of how Tyelko had succeeded in training another horse that had been deemed untamable by all. There were many discussions on the challenges of their younger brothers' upbringing as their father and mother seemed to care less and less every day, leaving most of that task to Maitimo. It was the only time that they dared voice their fears about their parents. They both could see how they were each going their own ways and became more and more estranged from each other. But most often, they would speak of the political news that came from Tirion via their cousins visiting, of the dynamics at their grandfather's court, the decisions taken and their consequences and how the world as they knew it was changing. On some days his gentle lady would join them, but mostly she would continue her own work and leave her husband alone to talk with his brother, for she cared little about these things and was even more absorbed by her music then he was. Inevitably these evenings would end sitting outside, watching the soft light of Telperion while he would softly sing, his brother silently listening until he finally found some peace.

Tears ran over his cheeks. So much he had lost these years and never would those moments return. His wife was safely beyond his reach, far away. Safe for the curse that had been caused by his words and deeds. He should not think of her as his wife anymore, he knew, the moment he had sundered their bond, returned his ring, she had become free again. And he prayed that she would be able to build her life anew without him, that she would take care of the one piece of his soul that was still walking in Aman, his little boy. That had been _his_ choice, and even though it was still hard to bear the consequences, he knew it had been the right one.

Turning his thoughts back to the present, he told himself once more that he would never have been able to stop Maitimo going to the parley, that there was nothing he could have done, that this had been his brother's choice, as he had made his own once.

In that moment, alone in his tent, he swore to himself that he would not break. He had to take his responsibility as his brother's regent. He would strengthen his will once more, be the King their people needed. He had to focus on building their base camp for now to grow their might. Build a safe haven, enable his people to recover and grow, so that one day they could take their revenge. He could wait, he could be patient, but war there would be, that he vowed.

***note***

I am aware that there is no such thing as divorce with the elves, and that the oath of marriage was almost as strong as the one that the Feanorians took, but in this case, I imagine that even if the vow could not be really broken, Maglor intended to give his wife the opportunity to not be associated with him anymore, and free her of any obligation towards his family.


	3. Maedhros

One day, long after that moment, a lonely figure stood high up the parapets of cold mighty Himring and watched how a scattered group of soldiers approached. They bore Feanorian stars in hues of blue and green on their armor and on their broken shields, but the master of the castle did not move. He waited patiently until the group reached the gates. His men would let them in, the instructions had been given.

The one he was waiting for was not amongst them, not in this troop, nor in the many troops of refugees that had passed his gate in previous hours. He would come, he had to. There was no other way.

Another group appeared at the horizon. It consisted of very few men, and they seemed to be fighting even as they approached. He barked a command to his soldiers down in the courtyard without moving from is position.

The men galloped through the gate in and he saw how they reached the enemy. He felt distant and detached, watching the spectacle from afar. It did not take them long to slay the enemies that had followed the blue-and-green group. A spark of interest ignited as he saw them encircle the surviving refugees with their own fiery red shields. One of the refugees was lying flat on his tall black horse, seemingly unconscious. He must have been hit by the last blows of the foul creatures that had followed them. His captain shouted a few inaudible orders, and after a few minutes, two of his soldiers helped to position the wounded man into his captain's arms. He carried the lifeless figure before him as they came closer again to the castle. It was only when he recognised the lonely black stallion trotting at the back of the group, its manes donned with a simple blue ribbon, that he knew that the one for whom he had been waiting had come.

He shouted another command, and saw the healers hurry into the building. All would be ready.

Slowly he too descended, dreading what he would find.

Not much later he stood in a small room, leaning against the doorframe while he watched the silent figure on the bed. The healers had done what they had to, staunching the blood of the side wound, salving the dragon's burns on the shoulder, arm and neck. They had tried to reassure him that there was no real immediate danger. He had not dared to believe them. The side wound had been deep, the burns were extensive. He would not leave him alone. He would stand guard this night as the man that he called brother fell prey to fevered dreams.

The healers had removed his clothing to see to his wounds, and upon doing so had found some personal items that now were lying on the night table. A golden bracelet, a copper button, a tiny wooden horse, a book that once had been embroidered with a now mostly faded blue-green star.

He picked up the book and leafed through, out of hope perhaps of finding something that could distract him.

There were fragments of poetry in his brother's nearly indiscernible handwriting. Here and there he could even find annotations of music and he smiled. Maglor might not sing so often anymore, he might not always want to play, but he had not stopped writing at least. As he browsed back to the beginning and turned another page, a piece of folded paper fell out. He looked at the pages that had surrounded it. They had slightly faded, but he quickly saw that the writing was different. They were long, painfully accurate accounts of the lands around lake Mithrim. Drawings of animals encountered, rough sketches of the landscape, and inventories of food and other supplies. He knew from when these dated. He picked up the letter and put it back where it belonged, closing the book with a snap. But as the night passed on, he became restless. As soon as he found a moment of respite from wiping away the sweat from his ailing brother's forehead, he took the piece of paper out again. Turning it around, he opened it and was not entirely surprised to find his own name.

 _Maitimo_.

How long since anyone had called him that? It had been Maedhros ever since his return. Sometimes his brothers would still call him Nelyo or Russandol, but not Maitimo, never Maitimo. His hand trembled as he read on.

When he looked up, he found his brother staring at him with a feverish look in his eyes.

"Makalaurë, how do you feel."

Maglor answered him with some effort "Pain… will be all right. Aikanáro, Angaráto **,** dead… You… go rest, should not stay. Attack will come…" Maedhros noticed that the bard lowered his gaze to the letter in his hands and tiredly closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again Maglor seemed a little stronger "Should not… have read that. Long ago."

He knelt next to the bed before he softly answered. "Long ago but not forgotten, I think."

After his return, in those difficult first years when the tension between the houses of Fingolfin and Feanor flared up once more and the one that had been his friend since childhood was far away, it had been Maglor who had listened to his tales of horror. It had been Maglor who had quietly waited until he had found a way to express what had happened to him. It had been Maglor, who had patiently helped him to find the words to say things he had once thought invoiceable.

But never had they spoken of what had passed at the lake during his absence, his imprisonment. Never had Maglor told him anything but the factual account of the decisions taken and information gathered. However brilliant the bard was with words, however he excelled in at shaping them to reflect others' emotions, he had never succeeded in using them to express his own thoughts.

"Never will I forget"

There was a note of guilt in Maglor's voice and Maedhros knew he could not leave it unanswered. "I never fathomed that anyone, that _you_ understood why, why I…" He took a deep breath to steady himself. "You did the right thing, for our people, for our brothers…. You never should have had to bear this burden, if only I…"

Lost for words, he watched his brother's clear grey eyes as Maglor reached out with his hand and carefully brushed his thumb over his cheeks. "No tears, Nelyo, no tears, not for me… I chose willingly…"

"We all did, one day we all chose. Maka, there can be no feeling of debt between us. I never blamed you for not coming after me. Never. Please, you must believe me, brother." The bard almost unperceivably nodded and weakly let his hand fall back onto the covers of the bed, the small spark of energy gone from him as quickly as it had arisen. A few tears wandered over Maglor's face as he closed his eyes and Maedhros saw how he slowly drifted back into his fevered dreams.

As light entered the room he heard the healers approach that had promised to come and check on the patient. He stood up and quietly put the letter back in the book. Softly and absentmindedly he caressed his brother's hair with his good hand before he left. Hesitating in the door frame, he looked behind him and whispered "Sleep, my strong brother, sleep and heal, Kanafinwë, I need you."


	4. Maglor

He woke up with an idea of music in his mind. A melody haunting his thoughts. It was nothing unusual, something that would occur now and then. He knew that as soon as he would start noting down the fragment, the rest would follow, as if somehow the full thing had been contained in his mind and now was finally was ready to be released.

But he could not reach the paper and he did not see a pen. His side was vaguely throbbing and his right arm and shoulder were burning with pain. So he laid awake, the melody tumbling through his mind, together with other thoughts, darker thoughts, which he knew had given rise to the music he heard. The Gap was lost. He had failed. Four and a half century he had kept it, fighting relentlessly with his men, now only a fraction of his troops had managed to escape. The blasted dragon had been their death.

The losses he had suffered were the least of his worries, through the years he had learned not to care anymore, others would take their places, though always less in numbers and in skill than those that had perished. No, it was the fact that he had opened the gate towards his brothers' and cousins' lands that made that he now angrily laid in this bed. He had not been able to protect them, once more he had failed. Caranthir and the twins would be under severe attack now that he was not there anymore to take the first blows. Their first line of defense had failed and again all would curse him for losing that position, even though he grimly thought that none of his brothers, aside from Maedhros perhaps, would have been able to hold the gap against the dragon.

He tried to turn to his good side, moving his injured arm to grasp one of the small items that were lying on his night table. He had to stop halfway through, sweating, as he tried to shut out the pain. Before he could attempt again, the door opened and Maedhros entered. He thought his elder brother still looked white and drained, as he had last night when he had woken up, seeing him reading his private notes, but realised all too well that he was not exactly an image of health either at this point in time. His fever had broken though, and while the pain was still omnipresent, he felt that at least his mind was clear again.

Maedhros had seen him reaching out as he entered. "Don't. Stay still, you should not move, Maglor. Your arm is badly burnt and you have to let it rest for a while."

"That can very well be, brother, but I need something to write or I will not sleep for days to come."

Maedhros smiled understandingly, "I will see to it, I will get you something. How are you feeling?"

Maglor groaned, "Not too great, that arm hurts like hell. Not to mention that I know all too well that I return here defeated and have given the dark one a clear path into Beleriand."

"There is no shame in that, Maglor, I do not think any of us could have kept the gap as long as you did. It bought us time, Caranthir was able to retreat with his troups, and Curufin and Celegorm have as well fled the pass. It is only here that we managed to hold our ground." Ever Maedhros had understood him without words.

"Good to hear our brothers are safe. Ah, brave Angaráto and swift Aikanáro, they were in the first line of attack too. When refugees from their troops told us that they had perished…." Maglor closed his eyes and pinched his nose with his good hand, fighting to gain back his composure. "What Findaráto will say when he learns that they are no more, I do not know, I do not envy the messenger that will break that news to him."

"It might very well be that Celegorm or Curufin will be the ones to whom befalls that task, I have word that they fled into that direction."

"Then I hope Curufin will be able to rule in his tongue, for I would not wish our cousin to hear such grievous news from him. I say that I do not regret that I do not find him here." Maglor harshly responded.

"Why? What happened between the two of you? For all these years you have been avoiding each other. How come he fears you so, or given what I hear you say now, how come that you are so irritated with him?"

"That is a long story, and not one I can manage to tell you today. I am tired again and wish to rest, though I will not sleep until I can note down the music that is tumbling around in my head." Maglor gritted his teeth and turned away for a moment from his brother's piercing gaze, he did not like to be questioned by those clear gray eyes and would do anything to hide his pain from the one that was standing in front of him.

"It has something to do with the letter I read yesterday night, has it not? We will talk on this later, Maglor, I want to know what happened, but that can wait. I will get you your paper and something to write, on the condition you promise that you will rest after. We have been able to withstand the attacks so far, but we need you hale and whole with us."

"Did you hear anything from Fingolfin or Fingon yet? They must have suffered too, otherwise they would have come to our cousins' aid."

"They have been driven back to Ered Wethrin. We have been utterly defeated, brother." Maedhros' face remained impassive as he spoke, but Maglor could hear the hatred in his voice and knew that this would not be the end. The longer they fought, the more they lost, the more determined they became to keep on fighting. Although it still was the main driver for their younger brothers, for the two of them, it had long ceased to be only a fight to recover their father's jewel. No, it went now far beyond that, whatever it would take, however long, there would be revenge for this day, as well as for so many days before.

Maglor wanted to say more, but felt weaker again, and fell back into his cushions. He saw his brother's weary gaze resting upon him, and heard the other speak. "Here, I at least will put your notebook close to you, and I will ask the servants to bring some ink and a pen, but please, rest now, there is time to talk later, you will not go anywhere soon I believe, not this time."

He only nodded in response and watched his fiery-haired brother leave his room.

* * *

When Maedhros had closed the door, he asked the guard to fetch the so much needed pen, and leaned against the frame for a moment as he heard how his brother began to sing despite his weariness. To his surprise it was not a lament that Makalaurë started, but a gentle love song, comforting and sad at the same time. It sounded very softly and half-out of breath, but he could discern the words and the melody and he remembered how his brother had written to him that Aikanáro had greatly loved a mortal woman. He had been torn between his love and the reality of the times in which they were living and Maedhros understood in whose memory the bard was singing, knowing that he had lost again one of his very few friends.

 _There's not a Swain, on the Plain,_

 _would be bless'd like me, oh!_

 _could you but on me smile;_

 _but you appear so severe_

 _that trembling with fear,_

 _my heart goes pit-a-pat, all the while:_

 _When I cry, must I die,_

 _you make no reply, but look shy,_

 _and with a scornful eye_

 _kill me by your cruelty._

 _Oh! can you be so hard to me?*_

He quickly withdrew to his quarters before anyone could see the tears falling from his eyes.

* * *

 _* Purcell/Britten : there's not a swain (Olivia Chaney version is what I had in mind)_


	5. Nelyafinwë

He saw his fortress rise against the hills and was glad. It had taken them too long to recapture the pass of Aglon, him and his men. Their men, for it were mixed cohorts that he had led, consisting as much out of his brother's cavalry troops as of his own. And still, even if they had finally succeeded, it was not as if it was a real victory. The enemy was behind them as well as in the plains of Ard Galen, no, he corrected himself even in thought, Anfauglith, for the green land was no more.

There was not much more they could do now, at least they had an unbroken line of defense again from Hithrim to Ered Gorgoroth, to whatever end that may lead them, for beyond he would not go. He had nor the troops, nor the strength within himself to hold those lands. So he was riding back, leaving the pass in the hands of one of his trusted captains, as his younger brothers had fled and were apparently unable to return. Back to his keep he would go and hope that it would be enough, to hold an island of refuge to withstand the waves of the enemies' troops that were still flowing through the lands. Let his cousins clean up the mess around Doriath, where the sons of Feanor were not welcome, he harshly added in his mind, but at the same time he knew that victory would only come when they stood united, the enemy was too strong.

Messages had been sent ahead and doubtlessly Maglor would be awaiting their arrival. He did not look forward to meeting him, he knew his brother well enough to know that he would have loathed the task of holding the fortress for so long and would be in a foul mood. In the past centuries, Maglor had become a man of the plains, of the open skies and of long raids throughout the lands. He had almost led a nomadic existence when defending the gap, travelling from one of his cohorts to the next, being everywhere and nowhere. It had been his strength, his men would have walked through fire for the captain that graced them with his presence so often (and some had, he thought bitterly at the memory of the dragon). To his enemy he was untraceable, always slipping away from where he was expected to be.

Under any other circumstances, Maglor would have been the one he would have chosen to lead the troops towards the pass, to recapture what was lost. But the bard had still not fully recovered from his wounds, and there had been no other option than that he himself led the troops in the field, while leaving his brother behind to defend the fortress. In any case he thought that if anything would have happened to himself in this campaign, he would not have considered it too great a loss, a maimed, embittered man, who would mourn him? In many aspects he believed his brother was a better man than he ever had been, both as a strategist and morally. And at least he would have found peace in knowing that there was one left that had enough authority to rule in their younger siblings.

As he approached the castle, he found the bard waiting for him outside. Silently the black haired elf was sitting on his black stallion with only a small guard around him. "Fool," he muttered under his breath, "damned fool, why are you out here, what if I would have been a decoy of the enemy?" But then he looked closer and saw the tense expression on his brother's face and knew something was amiss.

As he directed his own brown fox next to Maglor's horse, they clasped hands. With one move of his hand Maglor sent away his guard and confirmed his suspicion that he had things to talk in private even before they entered the castle. So Maedhros too sent away his captains, telling them to bring the troops into the castle while he rode a little further with his brother.

"What is it, Maka, why this reception?"

"You have not heard it." It was not a question.

"Have not heard what Maka? What the hell is going on here?"

"Nolofinwë. He rode out to challenge the enemy," with a gesture of his head in the general direction of Thangorodrim Maglor did not leave much options open as to whom their uncle had challenged. "They fought in single combat and it is said that he was able to wound him before he was slain. The message said his body was carried by the Lord of the Eagles to wherever Turukano has hidden his city." His stormy gray eyes did not betray any feeling, but Maedhros did not need to see to know what this meant for all of them.

"Uncle Nolo gone, Finno…"

"Yes, he is King now Nelyo."

He tried to hide his confusion, his grief, "Why, why did he do something so foolish." It was only a whisper.

"I think even Findekano cannot answer that question, brother. He sent some personal messages to you too, aside from the official missive. I can only guess its contents, but I know what he has sent me. Harsh times are coming brother, and none of us know what they will bring. The men do not know yet that the High king has been slain, we need to think on how we breach the news to them."

Maedhros understood now why Maglor had chosen to tell him the news here. While their loyalty to the eldest surviving member of the house of Finwë had been something that had been obvious, now that the son had inherited kingship, the situation demanded some caution. How they reacted would determine their troops' – and perhaps even their brothers' – behavior towards Fingon. They would need to make absolutely sure that there was no doubt on their loyalty or the unity that they had so carefully wrought would be shattered once more. For himself, Maedhros knew he would never want the crown again, surely not to the expense of one that was closer to him than many of his siblings, and he was fairly sure Maglor thought the same. But then they had both carried the burden for a while, Maglor much longer than he had, and they both knew well what it meant to take that responsibility once more. And he knew why Fingon had written to Maglor then, strange as it might seem, for the two never had been particularly close. Still his brother had joined him on many a visit to Fingon's household, especially after the birth of his friend's son and there was experience to be shared there, of being entrusted with a role upon the unexpected death of one's father in the absence of one's brother - for though Turgon was younger than Fingon, Maedhros knew that the elder had always found the younger more fit to rule and felt himself more of a soldier than a king.

"You know that I will pledge my allegiance to him, Maglor. And so will you I think. Yes, we will need to consider this, let's see how we go ahead and get it over with as soon as we can. We need to make sure that we stay united if we ever want to drive the dark one back to where he came from. How long since this has happened?"

"I will swear my fealty, you know you should not even doubt that, and I agree with you, let's get this over with. The messages arrived about a week ago, it has been a month at most since Fingolfin fell, but soon rumors will start to reach us. You should be the one who tells the men, Maedhros, but you do not find me entirely unprepared. I have drafted some words to tell them, and some messages to our brothers, I just need you to check them and the emissaries can leave even today."

Even after all these years Maedhros was still surprised by the respect his brother showed him, though the bard would have been well capable of managing these affairs alone, still he had waited for him to approve, to make sure that the authority over their family remained firmly in his hands. "Let's go in then, and get started." Together they moved their horses towards the gate, passing by the lines of Maedhros' troops that were entering the castle. Inspecting the damage to the fortifications, he added "Did you suffer any attacks lately?"

Maglor shrugged, "Yes, raiding bands of orcs mostly, sometimes more coordinated attacks on the castle came, but nothing we could not handle. We have lost some forty men and one of my captains, but all in all we managed." He had not looked at Maedhros when speaking but rather observed the entering cohorts with a frown. "I see that you suffered more losses than I did. Still, I will need to go out soon, we need to forage now that you and them are back."

And his brother knew that indeed, he would have to let Maglor get out of the castle now and then, even if he hoped to keep him closer now that they had both ended up residing in the same place for the first time in centuries. It would be nice to have some company for a change. "Who was the captain you lost?" he remembered to ask before they rode through the gate, he did not like the casual way in which Maglor had talked about the dead.

The name the bard curtly mentioned in response made him cringe, as it had been one of the veterans that had been with them from the days of Formenos and he realised that with this fatality, the last of his brother's old personal guard had fallen. He had to try talk to him, tonight perhaps, when the missives had been sent and hopefully they would have a quiet moment to themselves.

By the time the troops had entered, the speech had been delivered – impeccably prepared by Maglor as always, and the messages had been sent, evening had fallen and indeed Maedhros found himself sitting by the fire together with the bard.

"Will you play for me, Maka? Sing perhaps? It has been so awfully quiet here."

Maglor did not react for a while, but stared into the flames. When at last he did reply he said "I don't know how to anymore, Nelyo, what would I play. A love song?" Bitterly he laughed.

"Yes, a love song brother, the one you started to write down that night when they brought you in wounded. I want to hear it properly now, the one for which the pen and ink were so urgently required."

As the bard's eyes flashed up to his brother, Maedhros could see the well-hidden pain inside. But he knew Maglor better than any other, and risked to push further. "You will sing, Maka, even if it is only to let me hear your grief, which I know is there. And after we will talk, there are things you need to tell me, even if you don't want to. Given the current situation there are things I need to understand."

Slowly his brother nodded and without accompaniment, softly started singing and when Maedhros closed his eyes, he could almost pretend they were back at his brother's house in Valinor.


	6. Kanafinwë

He observed his elder brother's sad expression while singing and regretted that Maedhros had chosen this song. He should have suggested something merrier himself really, and should not have given in into singing this one that was so linked to Aegnor's passing. But he had not had the energy to protest, nor the strength to keep his own grief from seeping through while he sang. He was tired of being locked within these cold stones, defending a fortress that he loathed, for its halls were unfriendly and built for defense only, and no warmth could be found here when its master was away.

He finished his song and as he looked up, he stared into Maedhros' bright eyes.

"That was beautiful, thank you for sharing it with me. You should sing now and then in the hall, it would bring some life back to this cold place." he spoke with a faint smile.

Maglor refrained himself from bluntly refusing as he saw the look on his elder brother's face. Singing would be painful, it almost always was nowadays, but it might bring some relieve to others, that much was true. And maybe it would even be worth the struggle, to see his brother laugh.

"But for now, come, tell me that story of long ago, now that we have time to talk."

How could he start?

"I know what you want to hear, but so much time has passed since those days at the lake, when Curufin's border patrols came back to tell that the skirmishes that had been ongoing at our northern flank had all but stopped for a force of elves had come from over the ice to our aid."

"Try, brother, however hard that tale is for you, try to explain to me what happened, how it happened, and what might be relevant in these times. We have time."

He knew then that Maedhros would not leave him alone before he had the full tale, and he started collecting his memories, shaping them in a story of some kind.

"You know as well as I do that we never thought that they would follow us. Who would have thought that uncle Nolo would have been so stupid and stubborn as to continue over the ice? Privately, I always thought that father had hoped that they would turn back to the safety of Aman, the Valar know I did. Atto might have lost all love he once had for Nolofinwë at that point, but he did not wish his people come to harm." He paused a moment before he added with a wry smile, "But even he seemed to have underestimated how much alike him his brother was. I guess giving up is just not part of the nature of any of grandfather Finwë's offspring."

He saw his brother nodding in response, it was not as if he had told him anything new, probably Maedhros had been discussing these things with Fingon for a long time.

"So there they were, and suddenly, the moon rose. And we were scared and we were confused, for with the host that had crossed, light had returned. We wondered in those days if the host of Fingolfin had received some blessing of the Valar after all, no longer coming for their initial goal of waylaying Morgoth, but to take revenge on us. However, Curufin's patrols quickly brought back the news that they were riding towards Angband rather than to our encampments, and we realised that though the events had happened at the same time, this might have been a coincidence after all."

He paused and stood up, pouring himself a drink before he continued.

"Then we got messages that they were seen riding towards the lake, and I had to make my decisions quickly. So it was that I was faced with one of the more difficult moments of my regency. How to act diplomatically towards those that we had betrayed only shortly before? I did not wish for conflict for it would weaken us further, while all I had in mind was building strength to march against the enemy.

I had put Celebrimbor in charge of the development of housing and he had been doing an excellent job, so we had some wooden cabins ready at that point and I decided that we would abandon them in favour of those that were newly arriving. You must know that all our scouts were returning with reports on how worn and exhausted the hosts of Fingolfin looked, even if some time had passed since they had entered our lands."

He grimaced as he remembered, it had indeed been one of his more difficult moments, with all opposing his decision, calling him a names, telling him that he was fleeing from the confrontation. But he had held his ground, explained them over and over again why and how, and in the end most had understood. Most, but not all.

"So they came, and I started sending messages towards our relatives. Rather secretly, though, as there were still some within our own group that were opposed to my decisions. They were no real political messages, I just wanted to make sure that they had the right account of facts, telling them about father, telling them about you." He averted his gaze from his brother's face and stared into the fire, leaning against the table. "They had a right to know. At first, there came no reply, I guess the anger of our uncle was still too great at what had happened. But I continued, sending him copies of maps that Celegorm had developed, sending him reports on the enemy's troops which Curufin had managed to put together, with warnings and information on what we had learnt in years before. And we sent them food, and tools, to get them started."

He fell silent for a while, lost in memory of those days, until Maedhros softly interrupted his thoughts.

"You know that uncle Nolo once told me that they probably would have lost a lot more of his people even then had you not given up that settlement? He was impressed by you and by your generosity, Maka."

He laughed bitterly at that statement. "If that is true, he hid it well then, when we first met."

When he had first encountered Nolofinwë, it had been at a location that had been carefully chosen amidst the two camps. Both had come with only a small contingent of their personal guard, which was bad enough, as they really should not have had any need of them.

"I met uncle Nolo at the edge of the lake, none of our other cousins was with him, not even Findarato who had been appointed by then as the leader of his father's people. He was stern and proud as ever, and we eyed each other wearily for a while. I then decided to break the silence with some general enquiries and after some minutes we started talking on why we really had met." He paused again, sipping from his cup of water.

"He asked me if I was going to claim Kingship over the Noldor, as the eldest son alive of the eldest son. I was not surprised at his request, for even if I had never received any reply to my messages aside from a very brief letter that he had sent to share some condolences at Atto's- and your –demise, I knew he had received them and doubtlessly had understood that I was in charge of our followers. I must say he had carefully heeded my advices up till that point.

I told him then what I had told our brothers years before, that I would do what I must to keep our people safe. 'Our' people I said, and I think he understood then, that I did not only mean our own followers. He did not offer much of a reply but steered the conversation elsewhere, asking how our brothers were doing, that our cousins sent us their regards and more small talk followed, after he questioned if there was any news on the enemy and we talked a bit on the situation in the lands beyond the mountains. I do not remember how long we talked, but when we parted, I know that some of the hostility that had hung between us at the beginning of that day had disappeared."

He sat himself down again then, pensively staring into the fire "I like to believe that in those days, though many found me too passive, I at least laid out some of the foundations of our later reconciliation. It is as you have said countless times since, we need to stand united or we do not even have a chance. After that day, we met regularly, uncle Nolo and me, and sometimes Findarato would join us, so we had the three fractions present. I avoided taking any of our brothers with me as long as I could, but in the end they grew ever more suspicious of my doings, and I had to bring them along."

"They did not trust you?" Maedhros stared at him

"No, they did not, maybe they still don't. Tyelko and Curu did not like my sharing of information. They felt as if they were doing the work, while I then gave away all they had achieved without getting anything in return." He shrugged. "It did not matter."

"You must have been very much alone, I never realised that." Maedhros whispered.

He shrugged again. "The task was mine, the weight was mine to bear. No matter if others did not understand, as long as I knew that I was doing the right thing, that I saw where we were going, why we were acting as we were, I was happy enough. You must know brother, that by that time, I thought you were lost forever – and never have I planned for the short term only. And after a while I felt that at least uncle Nolo understood what my intentions were."

"How did my return change your plans Maka?"

"It did not, If anything, it delayed them a little. I would have done the same as what we did afterwards, would have removed our brothers from that place, set tasks for them to keep them occupied beyond what they had done those first years, the lake area was becoming too small. The crown was never more than a trinket to me. I did not care what they called me, captain, prince or king, as long as they did what was needed to strengthen our forces to attack the enemy. When you returned, politically, for me it changed nothing. On a personal level, you know that when Finno succeeded in what I could not, it has changed everything." He averted his gaze from his brother. There were things he would not talk, not even now.

"But we got distracted, for you wanted to hear what happened between me and Curu." He took a deep breath. "One day, when I returned from one of my conversations with the other fraction, Caranthir and I were riding back to our camp. It was about a week after uncle Nolo had told me that Finno had disappeared and he had asked us if any of our scouts had seen him. On that occasion we had brought him the news that indeed he had been spotted moving towards the Shadow Mountains." He wiped his hand over his face, trying hard to keep his composure. "I already told you that our brothers wanted someone else to be present at those meetings, and to be honest, I think it has helped rather than stopped me, as they finally started to see why I was doing things. It took me some effort to rule them in in front of our cousins though." He smiled dryly, "especially Caranthir, you know how he and uncle Finarfin's brood never got along. Looking back, if I have done anything wrong, it was that I did not involve our brothers enough in the thought process behind my choices. Not that it would have changed any of my decisions, they were still mine to make. In any case, Curu was waiting for us just outside our camp, suddenly eager to talk to me alone. You know, we never call him Atarinke anymore, as mother did, but in that moment, he was indeed just like father. He was full of fire, telling me that he had something for me, a gift of sorts, something that would please me. I was weary for he had opposed me since the day you disappeared, but decided I would give him a chance to explain. So I asked Caranthir to leave us and reluctantly he went ahead.

Then Curu trusted a heavy bundle in my hands, I had no clue what it could be. I unwrapped the velvet cloth and found a crown, Nelyo, a heavy, beautiful, golden crown. I still do not know where he found the metal or how he hid its creation from us for so long, but there it was. He told me that it had been long enough that the people had been leaderless and that he was planning with Tyelko to have a coronation ceremony at the next waxing of the moon, which was only a few days off." He sighed "I am sure he meant well, but I grew angry, after all the time that I had spent to carefully mend the rift with our uncle, after all the explanations I had been giving them, they still had not understood that this would do more harm than any of our enemy's attacks. I did not want to be called king, Nelyo, and I guess deep down hope had stirred within me, kindled by our cousin's wild actions, that you might be still alive."

"Curu got mad at me then, called me a coward and a weakling, which he had done before, but though previous times I had managed to keep my own temper, this time I lost it. I shouted at him and we had a fight, a real one this time. Oh he did not draw his sword on me, at least he had that much sense, but we did fight, as if we were two young hounds, rolling on the ground. And despite his strength and his fury, I discovered that I still could best him. So I hit him out cold. I returned to camp and once I arrived there, I sent Tyelko and Carnistir to retrieve him so he could be brought to his tent without anyone noticing." He looked at Maedhros, tiredly "I am not proud of what I did that day, brother, but ever since, at least he has not opposed me anymore publicly."

"And the others? What did they say?"

"I think Carnistir understood what had happened and why I had reacted as I had. Tyelko would off course have heard Curu's story first, but I think even he saw further than that one incident and knew that there was some sense in the course I was steering. The twins," he shrugged, "I kept them out of it, they did not want to become involved in what they saw as their elder brothers quarreling once more. No, after, only Curu carried some grudge against me, but we have managed fairly well to avoid one another since and it seems that that will not change any time soon, now that he fled south. And as for the crown, shortly after Finno returned, you and I solved that problem for once and for all."

He stood up again then, and filled his cup with something stronger than the water he had been drinking so far. Maedhros as well did not speak for a long time, and together they pensively stared towards the dancing flames.

"I understand now. And I see what our challenge will be. It is strange, brother, how we have managed to avoid this conversation for so long, we who once spent every night together under the stars, talking about the politics and intrigues at the court in Tirion." A weak smile flashed over Maedhros' face as he continued. "I would like to think that maybe we have a second chance here."

"There is no returning to those times, Nelyo, never. But I will stay with you for now, if that is what you are asking. Maybe I can be of service to you."

"I should start calling you again by the name father gave you, I think, if only to remind you who you are. Kanafinwë. For that is who you truly are, don't you see it yourself? After all that you have just told me? It is a pity you are the one writing the songs here, for if I would find another, I would make him sing of you and your valiant deeds."

"Nelyo, I do not seek that type of glory, I never did and never will, nor do I think that my deeds are worth praising. It is enough for me to know that I have fulfilled my duty as well as I could."

He saw his elder brother looking at him and this time was not able to avert his eyes from that piercing gaze.

"Yes, I see what you mean." Maedhros at length replied "Your sense of duty ever has been strong. But still I do not think it is for duty alone that you have fought all these years. For revenge, for justice perhaps, but even those reasons I think were born from the love you bore our people, our father, me and all our brothers. I know for a fact that it was not for the jewels for which we once started this journey, though I do not doubt that you ever remembered that oath in all you did."

He could not do anything else than nod in acknowledgement. His brother had somehow understood. And as he watched the flames' reflection flicker upon the cup he was holding, hesitantly he spoke again, voicing a thought that had formed in the months before, while holding this fortress. "I do not know what the future will bring, Nelyo, but there will be no more peace. I foresee dark days to come and I do not think I want to deal with them alone anymore. Let us stay close and face the end towards which we now are heading together, you and I."

At that, Maedhros raised his own cup in salute. "Together" was all he said and no other words were needed.


End file.
